


Five Endearments John Watson Calls Sherlock Holmes and The One Sherlock Calls Him

by fiveainley_ohmy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, John makes Sherlock blush a lot, M/M, Pet Names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 00:17:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6589078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiveainley_ohmy/pseuds/fiveainley_ohmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"'Cause you're an idiot." John grinned at Sherlock fondly. His dark blue eyes twinkled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Endearments John Watson Calls Sherlock Holmes and The One Sherlock Calls Him

1.

"'Cause you're an **idiot**." John grinned at Sherlock fondly. His dark blue eyes twinkled.

The army doctor's smile was infectious. Sherlock found himself returning the expression, his cheeks heating up despite the January air nipping at his skin. "Dinner?" he asked.

"Starving," John answered, falling into step with him, and Sherlock knew that wherever he went, John Watson would follow.

* * *

2.

"You're gonna kill me one of these days, you **madman**!" John gasped, laughing as they collapsed against the side of a building. The gang leader had gotten away, but Sherlock had deduced where his den was. He'd call Lestrade in a moment, once they got their breath back.

"Why am I a madman, exactly?" wheezed Sherlock, clutching a stitch in his chest.

"What, you want a reason for this specific instance, or just general examples?" John giggled. The endorphins their brains had produced during their sprint were making them feel quite merry. There was nothing like the high of a case; no dose of morphine or cocaine could compare. "Let's see, the severed body parts in the kitchen, the bullet holes in our living room wall, talking to me as if I was there when I'm miles away from home, or chasing after armed gunmen through the streets of London at night in the bloody rain!"

Sherlock grinned sheepishly. "Point taken. But _you're_ the one who decided to move in with me."

John smiled up at him. "Yeah. Yeah, I did."

Sherlock suddenly felt his heart flutter.

* * *

3.

" **Lovely** ," John murmured, kissing the patch of skin right above his heart as he pushed Sherlock's shirt off of his body. "Utterly and absolutely lovely."

Sherlock flushed under John's loving touches and gentle statements. The only person who'd ever told him he was attractive was his mummy and that's what mummies are for, aren't they? The other children at school had teased him and called him ugly. And Sherlock had believed them. With his strange eyes and his skinny body and his odd cheekbones and his spindly limbs. But now, with John's kisses and caresses and praising words, Sherlock could believe he was anything John told him, and the mean-spirited cries of schoolyard bullies were a million lightyears away.

"Come here, lovely," said John, pulling Sherlock onto the bed, and Sherlock gladly followed.

* * *

4.

"Pass me the honey, **sweetheart**?"

Sherlock blinked and turned pink at the endearment. He and John had been together for several months now, but the consulting detective still grew as flustered as a school girl at John's pet names for him. Really, a man of his age and intellect. How deplorable.

Sherlock wordlessly passed the honey. John smiled at him from behind his morning paper and leaned across the table to kiss his warm cheek - he knew exactly what kind of effect he had on Sherlock and thought, to the detective's disgruntlement, that it was adorable. "Thank you... _sweetheart_."

* * *

5.

"May I have this dance? **Husband**?" John asked, taking Sherlock's hand and pulling him close for their first dance as a married couple. "Good thing you taught me how to do this, otherwise I'd be stepping all over your posh Italian shoes," John teased.

Sherlock relaxed into John's embrace, letting the sound of the music and the steady drum of John's heart take him away. Of all John's little names for him, Sherlock believed he liked this one the best.

* * *

+

"Goodnight, **John** ," sighed Sherlock, sleepily climbing into bed and John's arms after a long, long day of tending his bees and going over cold cases and teasingly nitpicking John's work on the manuscript for his first novel, about his and Sherlock's adventures together.

Sherlock never did have any cutesy nicknames for his husband. "John", the retired detective had decided long ago, was the highest compliment he could pay his best friend and the love of his life out of any other word in the whole English language. John called Sherlock many things because that was just John's way, but for Sherlock, "John" pretty much said it all.


End file.
